Then, foon as the fwell of the buds Only pay as thou paid'st me before. Thus mufic must needs be confefs'd STRADA'S NIGHTINGALE. HE fhepherd touch'd his reed; fweet Effay'd, and oft effay'd to catch the And treasuring, as on her ear they fell, The peevish youth, who ne'er had found before And foon (for various was his tuneful store) She dared the task, and, rifing as he rofe, Thus ftrength, not skill prevail'd. O fatal ftrife, ODE ON THE DEATH OF A LADY, NCIENT dame, how wide and vast To a race like ours appears, We, the herd of human kind, Frailer and of feebler powers; Death's delicious banquet-we Nourish'd but to feed the tomb. Seeds of merciless disease Lurk in all that we enjoy ; Some that waste us by degrees, Some that fuddenly destroy. And, if life o'erleap the bourn Faft as moons can wax and wane If a few (to few 'tis given), Lingering on this earthly stage, Wherefore live they, but to fee Oft was feen, in ages past, All that we with wonder view; Often fhall be to the last; Earth produces nothing new. Thee we gratulate, content Should propitious Heaven defign Life for us as calmly spent, Though but half the length of thine. THE CAUSE WON. WO neighbours furiously dispute; A field-the subject of the suit. Trivial the spot, yet fuch the rage With which the combatants engage, "Twere hard to tell who covets moft The prize -at whatsoever coft. The pleadings fwell. Words ftill fuffice: No term but yields fome fair pretence Defendant thus becomes a name, THE SILKWORM. HE beams of April, ere it goes, A worm, fcarce vifible, disclose; All winter long content to dwell The tenant of his native shell. The fame prolific season gives The fuftenance by which he lives, The mulberry leaf, a fimple ftore, That ferves him-till he needs no more! For, his dimenfions once complete, That hour arrived, his work begins; He spins and weaves, and weaves and spin s; Careless around him and around, Conceals him with a veil, though flight, And, though a worm when he was loft, When next we see him, wings he wears, Becomes oviparous; fupplies With future worms and future flies The next enfuing year-and dies! Well were it for the world, if all THE INNOCENT THIEF. OT a flower can be found in the fields, Or the spot that we till for our pleasure, From the largest to least, but it yields The bee, never wearied, a treasure. |